


Resolution

by sjofn



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sjofn/pseuds/sjofn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up after Movie Night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_  
_

_  
Listen to me. You are important, and not just to Dethklok. To me. Personally. I’ve had a taste of my life without you, and it was empty._

  
__

Charles was feeling like he had stepped through the looking glass as Nathan pulled him to his feet. He knew this wasn’t a dream, but his reality had shifted. He just stood for a moment, processing, rooted in place. The larger man gave his hand a gentle squeeze and his mind snapped to focus on the task at hand. He led Nathan across the room through his bedroom and into his bathroom.

The bathroom in the CFO’s rooms was large, nearly the same size as the bedroom. It featured a shower stall with double shower heads and digital temperature control. Charles turned on the water and adjusted the temperature before he stepped into the stall, with the lead singer following close behind him.

 

The sight of the singer standing with water cascading down his body was amazing. Just minutes before Charles had thought that he had never seen anything sexier than Nathan standing naked in his living room. Now that he had seen the other man naked and wet in his shower he was reconsidering that opinion. He grabbed the body wash and a natural sponge and worked them into a lather. Starting with Nathan’s chest he proceeded to gently scrub the lead man clean. The intimacy of the moment was almost palpable, and he was still having trouble ordering his thoughts.

After Charles finished the other man spoke, "Wanna help me wash my hair?"

Charles picked his shampoo up off of the shelf and poured some into his hand. "Absolutely. It‘s a 2 in 1 okay?" He answered.

Nathan flashed him a quick grin, "Yeah, that’s good. Less work. Only one rinse." he answered and turned around and leaned his head back. "I thought that you would, you have always had a thing about my hair." The front man observed as Charles began to work.

"Have I?" he asked.

"Yeah, you have. Almost every fucking time we have ever been drunk together you have been, uh, fixated on my hair." Nathan explained. "You used to always brush it out for me after shows, or put it up before makeup, you know. You remember, uh, before we had people to do that kinda stuff." his voice trailed off into a wistful almost whisper.

"You are right of course, I really like your hair." Charles admitted. As he worked the shampoo through raven hair he recalled brushing out Nathan’s stage-tangled hair after each of the literally hundreds of shows on their first tour.

 

While Nathan was rinsing, the smaller man methodically scrubbed himself down as memories of the first few years, when it had all been so simple, flooded his mind.

Nathan crushing him in a huge hug upon exiting the stage at the last show the final leg of that first endless tour . He’d gone through the after party in a corpse paint smeared Domenico Spano suit, Nathan at his side.

Nathan split a guys face wide open in Germany after the idiot had taken a swing at Charles, even though the guy had missed completely. Charles had broken the man’s wrist at nearly the same moment Nathans fist had obliterated his jaw.

Hundreds of small moments between the two of them passed through his minds eye. Things could have been very different if he hadn’t been quite so blind. Nathan had been generous with thick; Charles had been an absolute fool.

Hands massaging shampoo into his short hair brought him back into the present. When larger man finished, his hands fell to the managers shoulders resting there for a moment before he stepped out of the shower as Charles rinsed his hair.

 

The lead singer handed him a towel as he exited the shower. Once he had dried off, he was handed his glasses. Putting them on he took in the sight of Nathan with a towel slung round his hips and open expression on his face.

Nathan yawned and took a step closer to Charles

"I need to sleep, and you are still exhausted from that press tour thing. Want to just go to bed. With me, I mean we should go to bed together, to sleep."

"Let’s go to bed then." He answered with a smile, taking the other mans hand and leading him into the next room. He was exhausted, sleep sounded wonderful. It would be even better to wake up next to Nathan.

The front man dropped both of his towels on the floor and turned the bedding down. He flopped onto the bed and spoke, "It’s pretty big, not as big as mine but close." Charles nearly laughed out loud when the lead man realized his unintentional double entendre, blushing, before blurting out, "The bed. I was talking about…"

Charles moved quickly, laying his glasses on the night stand, before dropping lightly onto the bed to silence Nathan with a kiss. Now that he had license, he had no will to resist his impulses to express affection. "I know what you meant." He offered with a little chuckle after a moment, before catching the singers lips again.

 

The larger man sleepily broke the kiss and rolled onto his back, hauling Charles with him. "What time do you have to start working in the morning?" The raven haired man asked as he closed his eyes.

The CFO thought only for a moment before he spoke. "I don’t. I’ll call 607 when I wake up and have him reschedule my morning meeting with legal for late afternoon. There are a couple of briefs that I have to finish at all costs. That’ll only take about a half hour, and I can take care of that after the meeting."

"So basically you are taking a day off?" The front man questioned, his words a sleepy drawl.

"Most of the day, I’d clear my schedule completely if I could. " Charles admitted before realizing that the front man had fallen asleep.

He glanced at the clock noting the time, and shifted so that his head was resting on the front man’s broad chest. Focusing on the steady beating of Nathan’ heart he willed his mind to settle.

 

******************************************************

　

A hand rubbing large lazy circles on his back was what first brought him back to the waking world. The night before came crashing through his mind leaving him suddenly wide awake. "Can’t sleep?" He asked the larger man in a sleep roughened voice.

"I did, for a while. It’s okay. Go back to sleep. If you want." Nathan answered in a low tone.

"I doubt I would be able." Charles answered, before rolling onto his back stretching. Turning to look at the other man, he found himself swept back into Nathan’s arms. Their mouths came together roughly, as he was rolled onto his back. The front man devoured Charles’s mouth and his hand moved between their bodies to palm his growing arousal.

"I want you, uh, do you want, I mean can we?" Nathan trailed off breathlessly, his hand working Charles’s cock.

"I...fuck, yes!" Charles exclaimed as the front man twisted his wrist on the down stoke. "In the drawer."

 

The front man rolled over with a small laugh and opened the night stand, rummaging for a moment before he closed the drawer and returned to Charles side.

"Uh, I’ve never done this before. I know what to do, in theory. But I don’t want to hurt you." Nathan spoke quietly.

"You won’t." Charles said, pulling the front man back down for another searing kiss.

Charles heart beat in anticipation as Nathan knelt between his legs and opened the lubricant. It had been a long time since he had done this, since before he had met the other man. The front man massaged his thighs for a moment and Charles closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.

A slick finger rubbed gently over his ass circling for a few moments, before slowly pressing inside. A second slick hand wrapped itself around his cock and stroked with a slow firm grip.

 

The digit stretching him moved in time with the hand stroking him. Soon a second finger joined the first and they started to scissor gently. Charles opened his eyes just in time to watch the front man roll on the condom and spread the slick gel over his latex covered cock.

"If I hurt you, tell me." the raven-haired man commanded, expressions of concern and desire warring on his face.

Charles nodded his agreement and lifted his hips as Nathan put a pillow under them. The larger man closed the distance between them kissing Charles for a few long moments, before he moved up to kneel between his manager’s legs. Lining himself up with one hand and gripping Charles’s hip with the other, the front man began to slowly penetrate his body.

Charles willed himself to relax and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. The slow burn of the invasion was welcome pain. He’d forced himself to let go of wanting this. At least he had convinced himself that he had let go of it, knowing now that his feeling for Nathan colored every decision he had made since he met the other man. He had cut himself off from life, thinking he was protecting what they had from himself, when he had been ruining it. Nathan had wanted him, he had always wanted him.

 

Nathan paused when he was finally buried fully inside his lover. "Hey" he spoke in a bass whisper.

 

Charles met Nathan’s gaze and wondered at the fierce desire burning in Nathan’s eyes. A large hand cupped his face for a moment, and covering it with his own he brought it to his lips bestowing a brief kiss on the palm.

As Nathan moved forward to kiss the smaller mans lips he began to move slowly. Charles wrapped his legs around Nathan's waist, and the scene in the living room flashed across his mind. He reached up and pulled Nathan down, opening his mouth against his neck biting lightly, which earned him a low growl from the front man as he surged forward. Charles met his thrust half way and Nathan's hands gripped his hips and he was shifted up several inches. He was going to have to get used to being manhandled, albeit gently, in bed. Nathan flipped his hair back over his shoulder as he began to thrust in earnest. Charles wished for his glasses for a moment, until with the completion of the first stroke his world flashed white as the front man hit his prostate. Nathan growled and increased his pace, and Charles felt himself nearing completion. Nathan was talking telling him how hot he was, how much he wanted this, that he didn’t want anybody else. He lost it when Nathan’s hand wrapped around his aching dick, coming moments later into his fist. Nathan thrust shallowly a couple more times before burying himself completely with a final growl.

 

After a few minutes the front man got up and went into the bathroom. Charles listened as the water ran for a couple of minutes, and rolled onto his side, trying to will himself to stay awake. Nathan was carrying a washcloth when he returned to the bed, he sponged the worst of the mess off of Charles before tossing it on the floor with the towels. He got back in bed spooning up behind Charles throwing an arm over him and laying back against the pillows.

  



	2. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan hangs with Pickles, and does some thinking about Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part would never have been finished without help. The fabulous [](http://lawliette.livejournal.com/profile)[ **lawliette**](http://lawliette.livejournal.com/)  provided the Beta, and [](http://nawazarrio.livejournal.com/profile)[ **nawazarrio**](http://nawazarrio.livejournal.com/)  gets credit for Pickles’ portions of the dialogue. You two are freaking fantastic! <3 <3 <3

_  
_

 

  
  


Nathan had spent the better part of that week in his room, and the last 24 hours in Charles’s room. He wondered if his band mates were around. He decided to go to the living room first, someone was usually in there. A mood this good was meant to be shared with other people.

Thinking about his plans for later that evening, and remembering the last few moments he been with Charles, brought a smile to his normally stern face as he walked. He didn’t notice the faceless employees that were stopped dead in their tracks by his expression.

Charles had stopped him just as they were about to walk out the door of his rooms. He’d been shoved against the door, arms wrapped around his neck to pull his face down, before the manager’s mouth clashed against his, tongue demanding entrance. Nathan had gladly returned the kiss.

After a few minutes Charles had released him, and stepped back straightening his tie as he spoke, “I’ll call you when I’m done. I don’t anticipate that it will take more than 2 hours. We can have dinner sent up here later on tonight, if you want.” the manager had questioned in a roundabout way.

He did want. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with the other man. In the back of his mind he knew that he would have to spend time with the guys too, and he resolved to use anytime Charles was working to work on the stability of the band. Nathan was relieved by the fact that they on the same page.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” the lead singer had said, leaning down and pecking gently at the other man’s lips for one more kiss before leaving.

  
 

 

 

 

There was no one in the living room. He called Murderface, he was the most likely to answer his phone. When he got no response he called Toki, and then Skwisgaar. They both rang through to voice mail. Flopping onto the couch he dialed Pickles as he turned on the TV. He wasn’t really expecting the guy to answer, no one else had.

No one was answering the phone, and he really didn't feel like traipsing all over the haus looking for the other members of the band. As he idly flipped through channels, he determined that he didn’t feel like watching TV alone, and that he really should continue looking for the rest of the band. As he walked out of the room he ran into Pickles, almost knocking the redhead on his ass. Nathan caught his forearm with a steadying hand to prevent the fall.

“Hey Nate’n, what'cha doin'?” the drummer questioned. He was carrying a cup of coffee, a bottle of Irish Cream, a bag of Oreos, and what looked like an ounce of pot in a Ziploc bag.

“Looking for the band. Where are the other guys?” Nathan asked. Pickles looked as if he had just woken up; the cookies hinted that fact as well. Cookies were a common breakfast for the Wisconsinite.

 

"All fecked aff ta tha bar, then ta some movie premiere, I don’t know what, somethin' lame. I’da gone wit’ ‘em, but they left b'fore I woke up. Honestly I’m glad, feckin' buncha hollywood douche bags at movie premiers. Why are ya lookin’ fer us?" The drummer asked finishing up with a yawn.

“No reason, just wanted to, you know, pal around.” Nathan answered. He felt glad that it was Pickles he had run into. While he didn’t really hate any of the guys, the drummer was the one he felt the most comfortable with. They were friends, even if it had never been said. He wasn’t going to tell Pickles, cause he needed to talk to Charles before he said anything to anyone, but the drummer wouldn’t be completely fucking surprised. He had no idea how the Norwegian and the Swede were going to react. Murderface would probably freak, call him a fag for months.

 

They turned around and reentered the living room taking opposite ends of the couch as Pickles kicked the TV on using the pedal controls. The drummer put the cookies between them and the bottle on the floor at his feet. He opened the cabinet in the end table that held his living room bong-- he had a bong for almost every room in the haus. As he prepared the bowl his foot tapped in regular intervals changing channels.

“Smoke?” he asked the lead singer. The front man thought about it for a moment before grunting an affirmation. Pickles handed him the glass piece and a lighter when he was finished packing it up. Nathan held the flame to the green and pulled through the bong filling first the chamber and then his lungs with smoke. He held it in, trying to prolong exhaling as long as possible. The front man didn’t smoke very often; it wasn’t that he didn’t like the way it made him feel; he didn‘t want to harm his voice. Almost immediately the high started rolling in. Pickles always got the best shit. He handed the bong back to Pickles as he released the breath exhaling a large cloud of smoke. He turned his attention to the TV as the drummer settled on a program, a documentary about meercats.

They sat and smoked in companionable silence for a while. The documentary was over, and Pickles had started flipping through channels again when Nathan wondered what time it was. He unhooked his dethphone from his belt to check.

“So Nate’n,” the drummer began to open the cookies as he started speaking. “Where’s the robaht?”

“He’s not a robot, alright.” Nathan answered defensively

The drummer laughed for a minute before taking a bite of an oreo. He chewed, took a sip of the liquor and swallowed before he spoke again, "You called 'im a robaht, not me. I’m quotin' ya, Nate’n." the drummer said in a happy tone. He picked the bong back up and started to get it ready for round two.

“I did? Oh. I did. I, it.” Nathan was at a loss for words. He had been the first one to call Charles a robot. He remembered it. They had just finished recording the second album, and he had wanted to go to Brazil, so he’d brought it up in a band meeting. Skwisgaar and Magnus had started talking about fucking sluts and agreed that it sounded like a great idea. Charles had shot the idea down, and he had lost his temper. He’d wanted to get away from work, for all of them to just go somewhere else and just be 6 regular jack offs for a week. In the end he had gone alone for three days. Charles had tried to talk to him before he left, he remembered that much; but he had been on a mission to drink until he felt nothing and had refused to hear his manager.

“Yeh, yah did.” the drummer spoke as he handed the now re-packed bong to the singer.

Nathan took another hit and handed it back to the drummer who put it down and picked up another cookie.

 

“What happen'd at that meetin'?” the drummer asked exhaling a cloud of smoke that momentarily obscured his features.

The lead singer was confused for a few seconds. What meeting? He’d been lost in his own head rehashing the band and Charles interactions in the last few years, grateful for the insulation the weed-high gave him from the emotions of the past. He had been so fucking angry at fucking everything, and had treated Charles like shit. Worse had been the way the rest of the band had followed his lead. Would things ever have changed if the attack on the house hadn’t happened? The drummers question had hung unanswered for a few minutes before Nathan spoke. “I’ve been an asshole.”

The drummer seemed to understand, nodding his head as he said, "Have ya talked ta 'im, ya know, since he’s been beack?" The redhead finished his coffee and sat the cup on the table.

Nathan wished for a moment he could remember everything he had said to Pickles that night he had broken down, just a few days after the funeral. He remembered crying and drinking more than one bottle of whiskey, but not much else.

“Yeah, we’ve talked.” Nathan answered snagging an Oreo as he spoke. He took a bite of the cookie. Chewing, as he considered he words carefully. “I’m seeing that I, that how fucked up things were before, a lot of that was me.” The lead singer wasn’t aware of the smile that crossed his face as he said the word 'before'.

“It’s good you’re finally fucking figuring this shit out.” the drummer responded before taking a long hit off the bong.

Nathan helped himself to another cookie as his dethphone obnoxiously announced he’d received a text message.

“What’s Charlie gat to say?” The drummer questioned in a teasing tone.

“He’s out of his meeting, and he’s gonna call me when he’s done working. How’d you even know it was him?” Nathan asked gruffly as he remembered another reason why he didn’t smoke pot very often, it made him even slower on the uptake.

 

"Dood, yer feckin' smilin'. At a text message," the older man chuckled, continuing, " and ya have been really happy lately, ya know? I heard a rumor 'bout ya walkin' through tha hall wit' a feckin' kool-aid smile this morning."

The front man laughed. “I should kill someone for that. But yeah, I probably did that.”

The drummer offered Nathan the bong, but the lead man refused. He’d had enough, anymore and he would probably just fall out completely. The drummer continued to smoke and munch on the cookies occasionally sipping directly from the bottle. Nathan’s respect for his chemical tolerance grew as he watched the older man make his way through a good portion of the bag of weed.

When Nathan‘s phone rang he announced quickly, “Hey, I gotta go. See you later, alright.” as he stood and turned towards the door.

“Tell Charlie I say 'Hi.'” The drummer said grinning as the front man answered the phone.

　

  



	3. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is eaten.

_  
_

The meeting with the legal department was tedious, and the CFO struggled to keep his focus. His mind kept backtracking to the revelation of the last 24 hours. He had woken up firmly ensconced in Nathan Explosion’s arms, feeling like a different person. His eyes were opened now, and he could see that things had been very different since his return; he just hadn’t allowed himself the head space to realize that fact. Being so bent on taking care of business had blinded him to the frontman’s affection, and he had put his own feelings in a metaphorical box years ago.

“My lord.” 607 said softly startling him out of his reverie.

Struggling to regain his composure, wondering how long he had been lost in his own thoughts, he glanced around the boardroom. The rest of the legal department was packing up to leave, the meeting was over. He concluded that it may have been better to delegate chairing this one to his assistant after all, considering how little he had contributed.

“Thank you 607, please have a copy of the minutes sent to me as usual.” Charles said as he stood. “Thank you all for your hard work, and have a good week,” he addressed the room at large before exiting. He didn’t hear the sudden flurry of whispered conversation that started once he was a safe distance down the hall. His senior legal staff had never seen him so distracted, and there were several leading theories about his state of mind. 607 did not participate in the gossip, and he was once again glad his face was obscured, as he couldn’t keep the knowing grin off his face.

As Charles headed straight for his office to knock out the rest of his to-do list, he texted Nathan letting the other man know the meeting was finished. Settling at his desk, he forced himself to clear his mind and get to work. Roughly an hour later he finished. Pushing his chair back and standing up he dialed Nathan. He wondered if he was coming across as pushy, or worse needy. Self-doubt clouded his mind as he listened to Nathan’s phone ring.

“Hey,” the lead singer answered. Charles heard Pickles say his name in the background and wondered what the front man had been doing to occupy himself.

“Hi. What are you up to?” The manager asked as he started walking back towards the part of the haus that held his rooms. He schooled himself not to express disappointment if Nathan had found something else to do this evening. It wouldn’t do to seem too upset if the frontman had made other plans.

“Coming to meet you. You’re done, right?” The lead singer questioned before continuing, “What did you want to eat for dinner? I have to walk by the kitchen on my way up there anyway, so I could stop and tell Jean-Pierre.”

Charles was filled with warmth by the eager tone of the other man’s voice. “I could eat anything at this point.” He answered honestly with a small laugh, feeling relieved.  
 

“Uh, okay. I‘ll surprise you.” The frontman offered.

“You already have, in the best way possible,” the manager said in a soft tone. Suddenly he was aware that he was all but whispering in a sweet tone into his phone, and cast a glance over his shoulder at his ever present personal guard. He had to get a grip on himself before he completely destroyed the image he had spent so long building.

“I’m not really sure what you mean, but I like the way you said it,” the frontman said with a low laugh. “See you in a few.”

  
“I’ll be waiting,” the manager answered before ending the call. The rest of the walk to his rooms passed in a blur. It was hard to believe that they had only been apart for a few hours considering his excitement over their planned evening together. His thankfully short workday had been a disaster, his assistant having to draw his attention back to the meeting several times. The two briefs he had been so sure he would be able to finish in no time, had taken an hour due to his complete inability to concentrate on work. He couldn’t even properly berate himself for the loss of focus. Who on earth wouldn’t be distracted by Nathan Explosion?

  
Upon entering his rooms he went straight to the closet and hung up his jacket and tie, noting as he entered that they had been cleaned. The bedding had been changed, and the used towels picked up. Resigning himself to the fact that his and Nathan’s changing relationship was probably already a topic of discussion amongst their employees, he decided to have 607 put the fear of death into everyone. In haus gossip was one thing, but if anyone spoke to the press heads would roll.

He went into his study and composed a carefully worded message to his assistant. There was no mention of any specific member of Dethklok, just instructions to send out a memo reminding the entire staff that speaking to the press about anything that happened in Mordhaus would result in the direst of consequences. As well as instructions to remind the entire staff what that meant by including a visual aid, maybe a photo of the yard wolves, or a funeral pyre.

　

Once that task was complete he made his way to the sideboard in the living room. A drink was in order, he was unaccountably nervous for some reason. Before he could pour the brandy, the door opened and the lead singer came into the room, heading straight for him. He barely managed to sit the bottle down before he was enveloped in a crushing hug.  
 

The larger man pressed a kiss against his hair before he spoke, “Missed you. Stupid I know. It was only a couple of hours, but I did. Miss you.”  
 

Charles melted into the large form at his words, his arms tightening around the other man. It was becoming rapidly apparent to him that he was the one who was going to have trouble expressing himself in this relationship. He had missed Nathan too, had in fact been able to focus on nothing for looking forward to this moment. His nerves had settled and he realized that he’d been anxious that it wouldn't be like this. He hadn’t allowed it to manifest as a solid thought, but he had been terribly worried that last night had been an aberration, and when they returned to his room tonight it would have all gone back to normal, or something worse.

Having no idea what to say he settled for turning his face up and kissing the larger man in greeting. He let himself get lost in the kiss, the remnants of his worries vanishing, as he opened his mouth against the singer's, their tongues stoking together. The frontman tasted of weed and Oreos, giving a pretty good idea of what he had been doing this afternoon. His hair fell around them like a curtain, and Charles was surrounded by the scent of his own shampoo, his desire rapidly rising as he remembered the night before. He really did have a thing for Nathan’s hair, and he twined his fingers through it as he smiled into the kiss.

A knock at the door was what finally separated them and Nathan moved across the room to answer it. Their dinner had arrived, and Nathan dismissed the gear that had delivered the cart, insisting that the two of them were capable of serving themselves.  
 

“Do we really need four bodyguards standing in the hall?” The frontman asked standing at the door, mild irritation in his voice.

“No. I..” Charles began to speak but Nathan had gone out into the hallway as soon as he’d said ‘no’ so he didn’t bother finishing his sentence, and instead turned his attention to the food. He lifted the covers off of the plates revealing Jean-Pierre’s Apricot Glazed Chicken, herbed potatoes, and steamed vegetables.  
 

Large hands loosely closed over his shoulders and he turned to face the other man.

　

“They refused to stand down completely. Two of them are in the hallway, and the other two are in the lounge at the end of the hall in case we need them.” The frontman looked momentarily grim as he spoke. “I miss not needing guards inside my own fucking house.”  
 

Charles put a hand on the frontman’s chest, knowing that nothing he could say would make the other man feel better. Nathan’s expression cleared at his touch and a smile crossed his face as he met Charles’s eyes and said, “Let’s eat. I’m fucking starving.”  
 

The raven-haired man pushed the food laden cart to the small table in the corner, and started unloading it. There was a large basket of rolls, a bottle of wine and three different desserts as well as the entrees. At the manager's raised eyebrow the front man offered an explanation for the dessert choices.

  
“I was pretty high when I talked to Jean-Pierre; cake, pie, and a chocolate mousse all seemed like a great idea.” The frontman said sheepishly. “The chicken was his idea, I told him to just pick something that he knew you liked, that would be fast.” he finished, sitting down across from Charles and pouring the wine.  
 

They didn’t talk much over the meal. Nathan tucked into his food single-mindedly. Charles savored the entrée; it was one of his favorites. Once they had finished eating Nathan suggested that they watch TV for a while before dessert, claiming he was still feeling the weed from earlier and needed to ‘chill’ for a while.

　

They settled onto the couch and Charles handed the larger man the remote. He really didn’t care what they watched. Nathan accepted it stretching his arm out around Charles as he leaned back into the sofa.

Charles was surprised to find himself drawn into the storyline of the program Nathan selected. Star Trek had never appealed to him before; he hadn’t watched much television in his adult life. Perhaps he would start, sitting with Nathan’s arm draped around him, pressed against the warmth of the other man’s side was an excellent way to relax.

 

As the program ended the frontman spoke, “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?” Charles questioned genuinely confused and slightly alarmed. What on earth could Nathan have to be sorry for? Was he having second thoughts? Earlier doubts returned full force as a dull ache behind his breastbone.

 

“I was an asshole. Before you were gone. I didn’t even know why I was so angry. And I‘m sorry for that,” the frontman said his eyes cast downward into his lap.

 

Charles thought for a moment before he spoke. Nathan was apologizing for his behavior, really for not being self-aware enough to understand what he had wanted. Charles had assumed that the past would remain just that, the past. The apology was more than a little disconcerting. He had been a colossal jackass himself, pushing Nathan away. If the frontman felt that apologies were in order then he more than deserved one as well.

 

“Nathan, it’s okay.” The smaller man said turning in his seat to face the larger man. He placed a gentle hand against the side of the singer’s face turning his head to force eye contact. “None of that matters anymore.”

 

“Well, I’m still sorry. Pickles reminded me that I was the first one to call you robot, it all fell into place. I treated you like shit, for years, and the rest of the guys followed my lead. If you hadn’t-. If the attack on the house hadn’t happened, I don’t know if I ever would have figured it out,” the frontman spoke. His green eyes burned with emotion as he closed the distance between them laying a chaste kiss on the manager’s lips.

 

“Nathan, you did figure it out, that’s what matters.” The manager punctuated his sentence with a kiss, continuing; “I’m not blameless when it comes to the past, I didn’t allow myself to see what was right in front of me. I was too busy trying to protect the band, and you, to see that I had done a huge deal of damage to us both by putting so much distance between us. I‘m sorry too.” He trailed off, his hand still resting on the frontman's face, and he once again leaned forward and joined their mouths, licking at the other man's lips to deepen the kiss.

 

“I just wanted you to know.” Nathan offered after a moment, before returning to the kiss.

 

Nathan kissed him with a focus and determination that Charles had only ever seen the other man apply to his music, and then only rarely. His heart hammered away in his chest as large hands worked their way under the back of his shirt to run over his back and sides, continuing around to map his chest before making their way to his slacks to unhook his belt. He worked his hands under the frontman's shirt pushing it up as he ran his hands over heavily muscled chest and shoulders. The front man broke the kiss, biting lightly at Charles’s neck, pulling back and pulling his t-shirt over his head, before large but nimble fingers made quick work of his manager’s dress shirt.

Nathan slipped down to the floor in front of the couch, moving to kneel in front of Charles. The intensity of the frontman’s expression coupled with the large warm hands stroking up and down his thighs served to bring Charles to an almost painful state of arousal. Nathan didn’t look away from his face as his hands tugged his pants and boxers down to pool at his feet.

 

Unable to look away, he watched as the frontman leaned forward to kiss his navel, trailing downward. A sharp bite to his thigh brought a cry to his lips. It had been so long since anyone had done this for him, and it had never been like this. As Nathan took an experimental lick from base to tip he shuddered. The sight of the metal god on his knees in front of him, lavishing attention on his cock was enough to bring him close to the edge. When the other man took his length into his mouth and began setting a slowly increasing pace with his lips and tongue, Charles was unable to prevent his hips from jerking upward, as all coherent thought had ceased for the manager.

 

One large hand wrapped around the base of his cock , the other went to his hip to pin him against the sofa. Nathan returned to his previous task, his hand working in concert with his mouth to push Charles over the edge. He tried to warn the front man of his impending orgasm, gasping out, “Nathan, I’m…”

 

At his words Nathan dropped his hand and took him into his mouth to the hilt, lips tight against the base of his shaft. Charles came with a soft cry and twitch of the hips, his hand moving to cup the back of Nathan’s head.

 

The front man looked up and met his eyes with a grin. After a moment he asked, “How’d I do? I, uh, wasn’t sure if I knew what I was doing. ”

 

Charles needed a moment to recover before he would be able to speak. Nathan had blown his mind. With an inward laugh he decided that his lover would appreciate the pun.

 

“You blew my mind.” The manager said in a hazy voice, a smile on his face.

Nathan laughed heartily as he stood up stretching, his own neglected erection visible through his jeans. “Return the favor?” He asked offering Charles a hand up.

 

“Gladly.” Charles answered as he stood, stretching up to kiss the front man before allowing himself to be led towards the bedroom.

  
 

 


	4. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan’s point of view.

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“I’m sorry.” the singer said in a low voice. There was more to the thought, but the large man was at a momentary loss for words.

“For What?” Charles asked in a monotone. There was something muted about the smaller man’s eyes and he sounded like he was in the courtroom. Nathan knew the guy was trying to sound level, and that something serious was going on behind that blank expression he was wearing.

 

Shit. Great Job Explosion. Way to Go. The lead singer stole another glance at the smaller man and the look on the other man’s face sent his eyes right back down to his lap. Fuck. He had started talking and he needed to hurry up and explain himself, because he had upset Charles. The other man had frozen as Nathan had spoken like a deer in headlights.

The lead singer gathered his thoughts and kept his eyes focused on his hands. Finally he spoke, “I was an asshole. Before you were gone. I didn’t even know why I was so angry. And I‘m sorry for that.” His internal debate over whether he should bring it up or not had lasted for most of Star Trek, he’d finally decided that if it was going to bug him this much he should just put it out there. He didn’t want the past hanging unacknowledged over their heads.

 

Charles had obviously thought he was going to say something else, because his guarded expression had gone when he turned Nathan’s head with a gentle hand to enforce eye contact.

 

As Charles spoke Nathan found himself wanting to say more, to be sure he was perfectly clear. He wouldn’t just hope that Charles had known what he meant. Charles was wrong, it did matter. It mattered because he needed the other man to know for sure that he wasn’t going to be that asshole anymore. The guy that didn’t have any clue what his fucking problem was; who lashed out at the person that mattered the most. That guy was gone.

“Well, I’m still sorry. Pickles reminded me that I was the first one to call you robot, it all fell into place. I treated you like shit, for years, and the rest of the guys followed my lead. If you hadn’t-. If the attack on the house hadn’t happened, I don’t know if I ever would have figured it out.” As the words spilled out of his mouth, he thought that it could be the weed that made it easier for him to get his thoughts out, but probably he just trusted Charles.

Nathan kept his eyes locked on Charles as he spoke, making a real effort not to blink. It wasn’t like he was about to cry like a girl, but tears weren’t metal. The thought that he could have gone through his entire life angry and clueless, treating Charles like a servant, being a miserable asshole while slowly disintegrating was fucking terrifying. He briefly pressed his lips to the other man’s reminding himself that hadn’t happened and now it never would.

“Nathan, you did figure it out, that’s what matters.” Charles spoke in the same soft low voice he had used on the phone earlier. “I’m not blameless when it comes to the past, I didn’t allow myself to see what was right in front of me. I was too busy trying to protect the band, and you, to see that I had done a huge deal of damage to us both by putting so much distance between us. I‘m sorry too.”

Nathan tried to think his way through everything Charles had just said, but it was hard to think when the other man was licking at his mouth and soft lips were brushing against his own. So they were both sorry, that was good. He could stop worrying about how he was going to apologize now, because it had been done. It was becoming impossible to think about anything other than how much he wanted the man in his arms, so he gave up trying.

Pulling back for a moment he said, “I just wanted you to know,” before he gave himself entirely over to desire, and crushed their mouths together.

He let his hands roam freely over the compact muscles of his manager’s body, un-tucking his shirt as he went. Once again mapping the other man’s body with his hands, fingertips brushing over tightly coiled abs as he worked on getting the belt open. The breathy grunt Charles made into the kiss as he tugged at the frontman’s t-shirt made Nathan‘s dick finish getting hard. He briefly separated their mouths to sit back and ditch his t-shirt. A bite to the offered neck as he leaned back into the other man’s space earned a moan. Nathan needed Charles to be wearing less clothing. No clothing.

He wanted to make Charles come completely undone, to erase any doubts that the other man had left. The guarded expression from earlier and the hurt that had shone in his eyes meant that he still didn’t quite get it. Nathan was pretty sure that Charles had been expecting him to back out of this. How could he not know much Nathan fucking wanted him? How could he still be doubting? He had said it all the night before, but he wasn’t sure how much of it the other man had heard. The singer didn’t usually talk during sex, but he had meant every word that had come rambling out of his mouth. The perfection of that moment had demanded to be expressed.

Nathan slid off the couch kneeling in front of Charles, taking in sight of his manager breathless, and the feel of muscles tensing under his hands. Charles lifted his hips as Nathan tugged his pants and boxers off together. He kept his eyes on Charles face as he gathered his hair back over his shoulder. A hair tie would have been a good idea. Whatever.

Blow jobs were good. Nathan had been the recipient of literally thousands of them. This was his first attempt at giving one. He’d overheard a bunch of groupies talking about sucking cock once night a long time ago. No teeth on the sensitive bits had been the one thing they had all agreed on. He could remember that.

Charles was hot; his skin seemed to be on fire under Nathan’s hands as he leaned forward to dip his tongue into the other man’s navel briefly before kissing his way down perfect abs. The frontman couldn’t resist biting lightly at the other man’s thigh and the quiet cry that escaped the other man’s mouth proved that it hadn’t been a bad idea.

The sound the smaller man made when the singer licked a long stripe, encouraged Nathan further, and he took the head into his mouth, running his tongue around the head, something 95 percent of the blow jobs he had ever received had included. Charles tasted slightly bitter, but not unpleasant. Nathan took a little more into his mouth, and started to move in a repeating set of motions of neck, lips, and tongue, keeping it simple; hoping that the idea he had in his head about how to duplicate the things he knew were good wasn’t too far off.

The noises Charles was making were hot and going straight to Nathan’s groin. When his manager’s hips involuntarily bucked, Nathan knew that he had this pretty much figured out. One strong hand pinned Charles to the sofa by the hip and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, as the metal god took the other man back into his mouth.

Nathan hadn’t expected to be so fucking turned on by this. He had wanted to do it, but shit, this was fucking hot. Charles was shaking apart under his hands and mouth, and when he gasped Nathan’s name, the front man knew he was close. He dropped his hand to grab Charles other hip and swallowed the other mans cock to the hilt. Charles hand dropped to his head and his hips twitched beneath the front man’s grip. He let out a soft cry of “Nathan” as the frontman swallowed convulsively for a moment before sinking back on his haunches and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Charles was fucking beautiful, skin flushed his chest heaving, arms dropped in odd positions at his sides. Nathan grinned at the sight of the other man.

“How’d I do? I, uh, wasn’t sure if I knew what I was doing. ” the front man asked, even though he had already counted this first effort a success.

Charles just lay there panting for a moment before he finally offered, “You blew my mind.” with a cheesy grin.

Nathan wanted to jump on the other man at the sight of the grin, but he laughed instead and stood up stretching his legs and back. He couldn’t possibly be as quiet as Charles had been and the idea of the guards in the hall hearing them bugged him. He really didn’t care if the whole world knew, but he realized that it would effect the band, especially if it made it to the press. They needed to make sure their people understood what the consequences would be if they talked. They should move this to the bedroom. Put another door between them and the help.

“Return the favor?” He questioned as he held out a hand to the other man. Charles accepted and he pulled him up onto his feet. The other man wrapped an arm around his neck and stretched up on his toes to kiss Nathan tasting his mouth briefly before answering, “Gladly.”

Nathan led the way to the bedroom, wondering if that had done anything to assure Charles that he wasn’t going to change his mind. It hadn’t come up yet but he was sure that at least part of the doubt the other man had was rooted in worrying about Nathan‘s acceptance of the whole gay thing. It had taken him a while to get over it, he was still nervous about what people, the guys, his parents, were going to think.

He had thought that Charles was dead, gone for-fucking-ever when he had seen the truth of his feelings. When the other man came back, he hadn’t even wanted to try and deny it to himself. Instead he had read a bunch of books about gay sex, and a book about homosexuality in ancient Rome that had come up on a search when he was buying the books online. (With Murderface’s credit card) He was more than okay with it. He was fucking happy about it. Charles was here with him, walking naked behind him, not hamburger time. A fact that made any worry about what people would think seem like nothing.

“What‘s on your mind?” Charles asked as they reached the bed and the frontman turned around to face him.

Nathan realized he was grinning like an idiot and let out a laugh as he spoke, “I was thinking that I’m a fucking lucky guy.”

The manager stepped closer his hands coming up to rest palms open on the front man’s broad chest. “You are a Metal God adored by millions.” Charles said in a light tone before attaching his mouth to Nathan’s collarbone, sucking lightly for a moment.

Nathan knew that Charles was teasing him, and it pissed him off a little bit. Would it kill the guy to say something serious? This would be another great opportunity to try to hammer the truth home in the other man’s mind. He wrapped his arms around his lover and flopped down onto the bed taking Charles with him.

“I don’t give a fuck about millions. Get that through your head.” The frontman spoke in a voice roughened by the frustration.

Charles didn’t say anything he just pounced, his mouth slamming into Nathan’s, their teeth bumping together. He sucked the frontman’s tongue into his mouth as he unbuttoned jeans and shoved at them ineffectually until Nathan lifted his hips. The jeans tangled around his ankles, he hadn’t taken off his boots. He struggled for a moment to sit up to free himself, but Charles pushed him back down and threw a leg over Nathan’s hips as he rolled the frontman onto his back. Nathan arched up into the friction, his aching cock pinned between their bodies.

Charles sat up and stretched over and rummaged through the nightstand returning after only seconds with the lube. He poured some onto his own hand and slathered it over Nathan’s cock, before adding more to his fingers and reaching down to prepare himself.

As he scissored his fingers stretching himself he spoke, “I’ll blow you another time. I want your cock.” Hearing such a vulgar statement come out of Charles mouth made Nathan want to flip them over and bury himself in the other man. He tried to kick his leg to give him the momentum to turn them and was reminded that he was still basically trussed around the ankles by his jeans and boots.

The frontman held his breath as Charles raised himself, supported by one hand splayed on Nathan’s chest, and slowly started to sink onto his cock. He struggled to remain still, resisting the urge to thrust. Charles felt so fucking good, so tight as he came to a rest with Nathan fully buried. As the smaller man raised himself halfway and sank slowly back down setting a torturously slow pace, the perfection of the previous evening was recreated.

Once again Nathan found himself talking, every word that crossed his mind was pouring out of his mouth in a litany of profane adoration. “Fuck. That’s just fuck. You’re fucking perfect. god. Don’t stop. So hot.”

Charles raked his nails across Nathan’s chest, drawing the frontman’s gaze. He watched as Charles increased the speed of his movement, his muscles gleamed with perspiration. Nathan took the other man’s now hard cock in hand, only to have his hand shoed away, and Charles slam himself down, his eyes rolling back in his head as Nathan’s name was ripped from his throat.

Nathan lost the long battle and began to thrust up ward meeting each movement the smaller man made. “God, I never want to stop doing this. This should happen forever. I fucking. I fucking love this.” He wrapped his hand around his managers leaking prick, and dug his fingers into the hip he was gripping, feeling himself close, he spoke again, “So fucking close.” Charles seemed close himself, he was gone, his eyes squeezed shut tight, breathing hard. Nathan couldn‘t look away, the other man was amazing in his abandon to this.

“Fuck. Charles. come for me, Fuck. come with me. I’m not gonna last.” the singer growled out, his words were rewarded by Charles slamming himself down. His body became impossibly tight for a moment as he came into Nathan’s large fist. The singer let himself go, his world fading as orgasm ripped through his body, as his lover collapsed on top of him boneless.

　

Charles lay slumped across the larger man‘s chest for a few minutes, he carefully rolled off when his breathing had returned to normal, pressing his face into the crook of Nathan’s neck for a moment and saying, “I’ll be right back.” before he left the bed crossing the room and going into the bath.

 

Nathan couldn’t begin to think about moving. He just lay there listening to the shower running, not wanting to move or think, enjoying the fading euphoria of orgasm.

A low laugh and a damp towel landing on his stomach brought him back from the brink of sleep. Charles was crouched down at his feet unfastening his boots, finally untangling his ankles from his jeans and boxers. Nathan used the towel to clean himself off before tossing it to the floor. Charles went around to the other side of the bed and turned the bedding down. It was almost too much effort, but the front man dragged himself up and climbed into the bed properly. Charles joined him lying close and tossing an arm over the his stomach. Nathan sleepily mumbled, “g’night,” and dropped off to sleep.

 


	5. Resolution

Charles awoke at 5 am on Monday morning in a near panic. He couldn’t remember the dream clearly; all he had retained was that it had been about numbers. He hadn’t checked his email, or even left his rooms since Saturday afternoon. An anxiety dream made sense and was easily put completely out of mind.

He silently rolled out of bed and padded on bare feet into the bath to brush his teeth. Stretching as he rinsed his mouth, he thought he would start with a run, he hadn’t been in the gym in days either. Scrawling a quick a note for Nathan first, he grabbed clothes and shoes before slipping quietly out of his rooms.

 

When he returned after roughly an hour the front man was still sleeping soundly. With a quick glance toward the large form on the bed he started getting ready for the day ahead of him. When he came out of the shower, the larger man was no longer in bed, and most of the bedding was gone as well. Charles dressed himself quickly, walking into the living room while still tying his tie.

Nathan was sitting on the small couch wrapped in the comforter from the bed. He had the remote in his hand, but had fallen back asleep before he’d turned on the television. Charles walked over and brushed the other mans hair back out of his face. Sleepy green eyes snapped open.

“Tonight.” the front man mumbled in a sleepy gravel whisper. He blinked sleepily a couple of times.

“Yes.” Charles simply said. Whatever the front man had meant, the answer was yes. He was done trying to figure out why Nathan wanted him; all that really mattered was that he did.

“Call me when you’re done.” the singer mumbled as he flopped onto his side and turned on the television. His eyes closed as he dropped almost instantly sleep. Charles leaned down to press a kiss against his brow before he left.

The morning passed quickly, his assistant had handled things over the weekend admirably, and Charles was relieved that he didn’t have to spend the day playing catch up. 607 had been invaluable lately, and Charles thought it was time to reward the young man for his tireless service.

 

After a morning spent fielding phone calls, while finalizing the contracts for the venues on the upcoming tour, Charles pushed himself back from his desk and headed down to the kitchens wanting to stretch his legs, and grab a quick lunch. It was still only 11am, but he had been working since 6:30 and was starving.

Pickles was sitting at the table in the corner, wearing nothing but his briefs hunched over a cup of coffee. Charles greeted the drummer with a polite good afternoon as he walked past and set to making a sandwich for himself. He knew he could have had it made for him and sent up to his office, but the walk and preparing his food were both important. He needed sometime away from the desk, to refocus on something else for a minute; even if it was something as simple as making a turkey and cheese on sourdough.

 

“Ey der Chief.” The drummer slurred.

Charles was putting the mustard back into the fridge when the redhead spoke and grabbed a mineral water before shutting the door as he turned to face the man across the room. “How are you today Pickles?” the manager asked as he grabbed the completed sandwich and moved to sit at the table across from the drummer. After a few seconds with no reply from the redhead, he took a bite of his sandwich thinking that the musician was passing out where he sat, and probably wasn’t interested in carrying on a conversation.

He had eaten almost the entire thing before Pickles said another word.

“Ahm okay I guess.” The redhead said in an almost inaudible slur wobbling in his chair before he cleared his throat continuing, “Couldn’t find Nate all weekend. Dood feckin’ disappeared. Ya know where he‘s behn?”

Charles looked up and met the drummer’s bloodshot eyes as he finished chewing the bite he had just taken. It was amazing that he hadn’t needed several organ transplants as well. “Nathan is probably asleep, Pickles. You seem as if you could use some sleep yourself.” The manager offered before he took another bite.

“Reahlly? I went by ‘is room and he wasn’t there.” Pickles asked in a much clearer voice.

Before Charles could formulate a reply Pickles pushed himself up from the table. “I’m just feckin’ wit ya. I know exahctly where he’s at.”

As the manager met the Wisconsinites’ eyes he realized he had nearly forgotten rule number one when it came to interacting with the drummer. Never underestimate Pickles. The drummer had what could only be called a shit eating grin on his face, and he started laughing as Charles slowly chewed his food, prolonging the time until an answer would be expected from him.

“Dood. Thet was feckin’ priceless. Gahd, the look on your face more then answered thet question. Seriously. Nate wants us all to go over the set list for the first show. Facker called et ten AM! But you wouldn’t have known thet. Ya've prahbably ben et work since lang b'fore thet.” The drummer spoke swaying a bit as he turned towards the door to leave.

“Pickles, wait.” Charles wasn’t sure if the redhead knew everything, or was just screwing around shitfaced, and the conversation just seemed that way from his side. It was the curse of dealing with the former glam-rocker, it was impossible to know his level of intoxication, and he was capable of coherent thought at the point most people would be having their stomachs pumped.

 

“Don’t ya worrhy ‘bout me Charlie. I got the memo.” With that parting comment the drummer weaved drunkenly out of the room.

Charles finished his sandwich and headed back to his office. He put the conversation out of his mind; he would think about it later, when he could pick the frontman’s brain about how to handle the situation. It was possible that Nathan had said something on the subject to the drummer. There was still a lot to do before he could call it a day.

 

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The sound of running water brought Nathan out of sleep on Monday morning. He rolled over taking the blankets with him and stood blinking in the dim light of the room. There was a note on the nightstand, he picked it up squinting to read.

 _I’ve gone to the gym, I’ll be back before work._

Right. Nathan lumbered sleepily into the living room dropping heavily to the couch. He could feel his mind struggling to hang onto sleep and he grabbed the remote from the end table.

An unknowable amount of time later a gentle hand brushing his hair back from his face brought him out of sleep.

"Tonight?" He mumbled, his sleep addled brain unable to frame the question in any clearer way.

He heard Charles reply and felt the light kiss against his forehead as sleep carried him away.

The changing light woke him up the second time. A look at the clock told him it was only 9am. Feeling unusually motivated for the hour of the day Nathan got his clothes on and headed down to find breakfast. He’d call the guys after he had eaten. The first date on their tour was in less than two weeks, and they had to finish figuring out the set lists and have a few rehearsals this week.

The front man stopped by his room on his way down to the rehearsal space to get a couple of notebooks. He needed to get some of the shit that was running through his head out and onto paper. It was doubtful that any of it would ever be useful as material for songs, but he still wanted to write it down.

While he was in his room he decided to grab a few other things. Going to the closet he grabbed a gym bag and dumped the DVDs it contained on the floor, selecting a few to go back into the bag. He grabbed his hair care shit and a couple of black scrunchies smirking at the thought of why he wanted them. A few t-shirts, a couple pairs of boxers and socks, and a book he wanted to finished reading went into the bag as well. He decided he would toss it into Charles rooms before rehearsal; carrying it around with him would be pointless.

　

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Pickles stumbled down the hallway laughing to himself. He hadn’t been able to resist screwing with his manager’s head. Charles had fucking looked like he had just been served a subpoena for damages. That was the best, you knew you’d really gotten him then.

On Saturday night he had come across Charles’s assistant wailing on the drums in Studio C. When he’d seen the number on the hood’s badge that was still on the suit jacket hanging over a chair at the soundboard he’d he no choice but to strike up a conversation. His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

It had been surprisingly easy for the drummer to ply the younger man with weed, shots and seemingly innocent conversation about music until he was a sloppy mess. Poor bastard had been a very talkative drunk, and the redhead had subtly encouraged the man spill everything he knew about what was going on between the manager and the frontman.

None of it had come as a surprise to him, as he had seen Nathan that day and suspected that the two of them had finally come to an understanding. The memo that had hit his inbox flagged urgent that evening had hinted towards the fact as well. A memo reminding the haus of something everyone already thought of as law? Charles was predictably overprotective.

When Nathan had woken him up this morning at ten, he’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. Still hammered from the night before, he’d gone for a coffee before he dragged his ass down to the rehearsal space. The timing had been perfect, he’d just about finished the coffee when the manager had walked in and started making a sandwich.

The guy had been too easy, and he felt almost bad for fucking with him. But Charles should know that he knew, and he wasn’t sure if Nathan knew how transparent he had been. He decided to leave the man’s assistant out of it, knowing that Charles wouldn’t forgive the younger lawyer for talking, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already basically known anyway. The way the drummer saw it; fucking with the CFO’s head a little was as good a way as any to let him know he knew, and it would spare them the trouble of having to really talk about it.

When he reached the rehearsal space he made a line to the sofa in the lounge and slumped over the open end. Murderface was in the corner with a magazine. The Swede was sitting at the opposite end with his ever present guitar. Nathan was sitting the worktop scribbling furiously into a notebook, his face obscured by his hair. A dethphone announced that someone had recieved a text message and Nathan had his phone in his hand before the sound had stopped. The large man let out a the smallest sigh of annoyance when it hadn’t been his phone going off.

Pickles cracked up. It was too fucking funny, and he was still too fucking drunk, even after the coffee. His laughter was ignored at first, but after a few minutes their curiosity prompted Skwisgaar and Murderface question him.

“Whatsh sho funny?”

“Yah, What makings you laughs?”

The redhead took another glance at Nathan who was back to scribbling in his notebook, his back now turned to the rest of the room.

“Nahthin’ Ahm jus’ drunk.” the redhead choked out as he gained control of the near hysterical fit resulting from watching Nathan Fucking Explosion sigh and obsess over text messages. God. The last few days had been so entertaining it was almost worth having to watch the two of them slowly destroy each other for the last several years. Not quite, but close. Murderface’s reaction when he finally found out was probably going to be worth it.

The drummer idly wondered how long it would be a secret, and concluded it probably wouldn’t be long. If they weren’t about to go on tour it may be different, but with the close quarters on a tour the guys were bound to notice the change in Nathan. The frontman got a text message and Pickles could see the goofy ass grin on his face even though the front man had his back to him. How could a guys’ back give the impression that he was smiling? The drummer tried to restrain the laughter, but failed miserably when the big guy turned around to face them the grin the redhead had imagined was on his face.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

607 was not looking forward to speaking with the commander when he was summoned into the large office on late Monday afternoon. He wondered if news of his idiocy over the weekend had reached the commander, and he knew that if it had, this would be a very uncomfortable and likely painful meeting. He was probably going to die, at least get beaten half to death and put in data entry hell. It had been a pretty good run.

 

When he walked out of the commander’s office twenty minutes later he was overwhelmed. Instead of reprimand he had just been given a raise, a huge increase in responsibility, and instructions to select an assistant for himself. He understood the reasoning behind the change. He had served in an exemplary fashion, and the commander needed more free time, it made sense that the tasks he needed to delegate would be assigned to 607.

He had honestly expected the drummer to say something to someone by this point. During the meeting he had toyed with the idea that he should confess, but he had decided to do the logical thing and attempt to talk to Lord Pickles before throwing himself under the bus. It was possible that the redhead had blacked the entire episode out, he had drank an incredible amount that evening.

 

He headed towards the rehearsal space, the last place he had heard the redhead’s bodyguards check in with base. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he needed to speak to the man, so asking for his whereabouts was out of the question.

The drummer was no longer in the room, it was clear. 607 turned and headed towards Pickles’ room. If he wasn’t there he would resort to calling the man. Leaving this matter any longer would drive him insane.

Pickles was in his room. He was sitting at his vanity wrapped in a huge terrycloth robe waxing his dreads. He had screamed “CAHM IN!!!” when the young man knocked.

 

“Wat kahn I do fer ya’ you 607.” The drummer said, his face straight for a moment before he burst into a huge grin, laughing as he said. “Dood. Yer boss has it bahd. Ya shouda ben there this mornin’. Wanna smoke, Mike?”

607 should have known that the drummer hadn’t forgotten one moment of Saturday. He was mildly surprised the man remembered his name, he’d only said it once. Maybe he could ask for advice. He should at least level with the man. As he pulled off the hood he sat down on the chest at the foot of Pickles bed.

Saturday night he had finished the memo that the commander had requested and there had been nothing else required of him for the evening. He’d gone into Studio C and sat down at the drum kit, it was just a basic kit, not Pickles’ personal setup, and taking off his hood and jacket he started to play. It was something he did often. He hadn’t locked the door this time and the redhead had come in at some point while he’d been lost in the rhythm. He had let himself be drawn into a technical conversation about drumming, which had led to smoking marijuana, and having a few drinks, then a few more. In the end he had been a shitty mess, who hadn’t been able to keep his mouth closed.

He ran a hand through short dark hair as he tried to figure out the best way to broach the subject he had come here to address.

“So Mike. How’s it goin’?” The drummer asked as he finished with his dreads, wiping the excess wax from his hands on the robe. He picked up a joint and lit it taking a long drag before handing it across.

As Mike inhaled he wondered if this was a good idea. Well, it was too late to question himself now, but he resolved as he exhaled that this would be the last time he would smoke, he needed to remain sharp.

　

“I don’t know. I got a huge raise today, more responsibility comes with it. I’m terrified that something I said to you when I was drunk on Saturday night is going to lead to the commander killing me personally.” the young man said. Thank you THC for encouraging plain speech.

　

“Don’t worry dood. Yah didn’t tell me nathin I didn’t know.” The older man assured him. “Charlie’s nat gonna kill ya.”

　

“You knew? Well I admit I feel better now. Why didn’t you tell me you knew that night?” the much relieved younger man asked.

　

“Aw, Mike. I thought thet you’d get thet I had a preatty good idea. I was askin’ you sam very leadin’ questions. So, sahrry for thet. But you bein’ surprised I still don’ get. Are ya blind man? The big guy has been followin’ da chief around like a puppy since he’s ben beack. Gahd. That whole Friday night movie thing? Feckin' date night. Seriously dood.” Pickles took a long drag off the joint and handed it back to the other man.

Mike sat and shot bullshit with the drummer of the most popular band in the universe for a while longer before he donned his hood and started making his way back to his quarters. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, he had an international conference call, the first he had ever chaired, at 4:30am.

He looked forward to the opportunity to prove himself to his masters, especially now that he knew he wouldn’t be forfeiting his life for his weakness.

He knew that he should have taken his leave as soon as the drummer had joined him in the studio that night. But it had been Pickles talking to him about drums, wanting to pal around with him, telling him crazy stories about the 80’s. He had forgotten the commander’s number one rule for dealing with the Wisconsinite, overwhelmed by the attention.

As he walked he concluded that perhaps it was all for the best that Pickles was aware, he could be useful in dealing with the rest of the band during the tour. 607 shook his head at the thought of the tour. It was going to be interesting, to say the least.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

　

Nathan was irritated as he stomped towards Charles’s rooms. He grunted a monosyllabic acknowledgement at Charles’s assistant as they passed in the hallway headed opposite directions.

The rehearsal had been a fucking disaster. The only one of the guys to show up on time had been Skwisgaar. Murderface sat in the corner refusing to participate. Pickles had stumbled in still drunk from the night before, the guy hadn’t even bothered to get dressed. Toki had arrived last, starting an argument with the lead guitarist seconds after he came through the door. Working with these guys could be like herding cats.

After trying for hours to get them to focus he had finally given up. Pickles had woken up from a nap and decided he had to go take a shower. No drummer no rehersal, it was that simple. When he had tried to leave, the rest of the bastards had all suddenly gotten serious and wanted to work. He had insisted that he just wasn’t in the mood to practice anymore. Really he was starving and Charles had texted him that he was done for the day and was thinking about pizza for dinner. He’d told the rest of the band they would pick up the next day at noon and walked from the room without waiting for anyone to respond.

When he entered the CFO’s private rooms the irritation of the day faded away. Charles was sitting at the small table in the corner still, with papers spread out in front of him covering the entire surface of the table. When the smaller man heard Nathan enter the room he had turned to look at the door, a brilliant smile lighting his face. He pushed his chair back and stretched as he stood.

Nathan crossed the room in several large strides and wrapped his arms around his manager, their lips finding each other in a new familiarity.

The frontman’s stomach growled and Charles broke the kiss to say, "The pizza will be here very shortly. "

Nathan grinned. "You're fucking amazing."

A knock at the door announced the arrival of the food and Nathan released the other man so that he could get the door.

They ate on the couch. Charles had started to clear the table, but the front man had told him not to bother as he sat the pizza box on the coffee table and opened it. Charles had just laughed and joined the other man on the sofa taking a slice for himself and turning on the TV.

　

They didn’t talk until Nathan had finished his third slice, and decided he needed a drink. Charles was watching a game show, and Nathan found it adorable for some reason. "You want a beer?" He asked as he walked across the room to grab a drink.

Charles answered, his hand in front of his mouth, speaking through a mouthful of pizza, "No thanks, but a water would be great."

Nathan just stood for a moment coming to terms with the fact that he was probably going to be thinking ‘he’s adorable’ continuously for the rest of his life. He struggled with the thought for a moment. Adorable wasn’t a very metal adjective, but it did fit, he admitted to himself. Charles was adorable. He adored him. Several less than metal adjectives ran through his mind. He shook his head to clear it of the strings of fluffy happy words that were forming. Brutal. He thought with a shake of his head, the smile on his face not wavering.

When the lead singer returned to the couch Charles took the water with another mumbled thanks. There was no more conversation until the pizza was gone.

　

"So ah, How did your rehearsal go? I saw Pickles," Charles started to say as he settled under the frontman’s arm leaning against him.

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Nathan cut him off, "What did he say to you?"

Charles actually colored a little bit at the question, and the word adorable crossed the frontman’s mind once again. He forced his mind to focus on the words he was hearing, steering it firmly away from the thoughts the blush had given rise to.

"Nothing really, he just implied, but I got the definite impression that he knows about this. Us." Charles answered as he changed the channel on the television.

"He does. I mean he has known. How I feel about you. We haven’t really talked about it. Much. But he knows." The front man answered after a few minutes.

The smaller man didn’t say anything, he looked up into Nathan face his expression relaxed into an almost smile.

The front man brought a hand up to cup his lover’s face. "Fucking adorable." the front man grumbled softly tracing the other man’s lips with his thumb. How was he supposed to think with Charles sitting so close? He leaned down pressing their lips together in a soft closed mouth kiss.

"Should we worry about Pickles telling the rest of the band?" Charles asked as he carded Nathan’s hair back from his face with his hand.

"Nah. They’ll all find out uh, event, Eventually, but it won’t be from Pickles." The front man said as he stole another kiss. It would probably be because of something he said or did. The singer didn’t really care about keeping it a secret from the guys, in fact there had been a couple of times today when he had felt like shouting about it. He LOVED this guy. The band knew him pretty well, they were bound to notice that something was different.

Charles seemed satisfied to drop the subject in favor of kissing his way along Nathan’s jaw.

Nathan was more than okay with that. Soon they would be on tour for six weeks and there would be less time for the two of them to be alone. He wanted to spend every minute possible until then just like this.

　

　

　

　

　

　


End file.
